


Control

by osunism



Series: Lightning In A Bottle [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: D/s theme, F/M, Light BDSM, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osunism/pseuds/osunism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadiza is having trouble after getting thoroughly thrashed by Corypheus. Iron Bull notices she’s spiraling out of control and offers to lend a hand in a less conventional sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically unfinished, but I don’t have the heart to continue it, so this is mostly vanilla BDSM. Takes place during _Happenstance_.

           Skyhold was nice, she had to admit; a blighted miracle that Solas had known about the place, and even more so that they’d managed to find it in the most remote area of the Frostbacks in northern Orlais. They’d immediately set to work making the keep habitable and within the few weeks, they were nearly functioning at full capacity. Still, even with the Inquisition rebuilding its strength, Hadiza had no aid when it came time to lay her head down to sleep.

           It was the nightmares. They were relentless.

           Every time she closed her eyes she saw Corypheus’ disfigured face, snarling at her, arrogant and disdainful, with eyes that held knowledge older than all of Thedas, it felt like.

     _**Beg** that I succeed._

           She awoke gasping, clutching at a phantom hand around her throat, shivering from the cold draft that blew through the open doors of her balcony. It was on the worst nights, when the nightmares took darker turns, diverting from the actual events to show Hadiza’s terrified subconscious all of the ways she could have failed that she welcomed the brisk night air. She breathed it deep, not caring for the ache and sting in her nose, the sharpness in her lungs, or anything save blowing away that darkness that settled upon her mind.

           It was Iron Bull who noticed her withdrawal, first. It was in the lines of her body, in the taciturn nature she had undertaken since coming to Skyhold, in the irritable and laconic way she gave her orders.

           It was in the way she fought as if she wished to die.

           She had taken a particularly hard rift down in the Emerald Graves and Bull knew, when her grip on her staff was no longer certain, and the pride demon backhanded her so hard she tumbled and slid in the grass, that he had to put an end to it. He managed to snatch her to her feet before her skull struck a bolder nearby and from the wild, unfocused look in her eyes, he saw the shadow that had been encroaching on the boundaries of her soul…and her sanity.

           The ride back to Skyhold had been uncharacteristically silent as Hadiza rode ahead and alone, her body aching, and her pride aflame.

           Hadiza had been all too eager to retreat to her rooms and have a long bath when she returned to Skyhold, but it was not as luxurious as she imagined it would be. The bronze tub was beautiful, a riot of Orlesian opulence, and she had no trouble heating the water, nor did she have any trouble choosing from the assorted oils and soaps Vivienne had recommended for her.

           But she went through the motions, all the while in her head the words rose unbidden.

_**Beg** that I succeed.  **Beg** that I succeed._

           She had seen the results of Corypheus’ success, and the thought sickened her because not even he knew the horrible future he planned to unleash. She carried that knowledge with her everyday.

           There was a knock at her door when she was toweling herself dry. It was surprisingly polite and gentle, and she sighed with relief that it may not have been urgent. Perhaps it was a message from one of the advisors about her recent geological survey in the Graves. Slipping into a silken robe, she went to turn the lock and open the door a crack, eyes widening when she saw Iron Bull standing before her.

           “Bull?” Hadiza wondered, opening the door wider. The mercenary’s eye glanced down at her and she felt…smaller for some reason. She was used to towering over most, standing almost as tall as a grown man, but Bull dwarfed her by a two heads at least.

           “Mind if I come in?” He asked her evenly and Hadiza gave him room to step inside. She kept a relatively open door policy with her inner circle, many of them had proven to be invaluable both as comrades-at-arms and friends in the months since she had become the Inquisitor.

           “Is something the matter?” Hadiza asked. Iron Bull looked so out of place amidst the Orelsian finery of her chambers, and as vast as they were, he still managed to fill the room with his presence.

           “Yeah, Boss. You’re what’s the matter.” He said without looking at her, his back to her as he surveyed her desk. Hadiza blinked, brows furrowing.

           “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Is there a problem?” Her voice took on an edge as her temper began to spark beneath the calm she’d managed to find during her bath. Bull turned to her, then, and the spark died down.

           “You’ve been eating yourself up since we got here. It’s beginning to affect the team, and quite frankly it’s beneath you. Whatever it is…is beneath you, Inquisitor.” He was holding one of her spell tomes in his hand, and he idly flipped through the pages, as calm as ever. Hadiza had always likened Bull to a storm, but she had only really observed him in battle, where he wreaked havoc and cut through enemies like a scythe. Here, standing in her quarters, he looked like a storm that had calmed…a controlled sort of chaos and power that he could expand to encompass all unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. She recalled his words about dragons being the pinnacle of raw power, but it could not be controlled and thus they needed to be destroyed.

           Hadiza understood a little, now, the nature of the Qun regarding power and control.

           “You’re wound up tighter than a sword hilt.” He told her, “And you’ve got the rest of the team wondering what the hell is going on. If you don’t unwind—if you don’t get rid of whatever’s got you jumping at shadows—you’re going to break. I’ve heard and seen what happens when you humans break…it’s never pretty.”

           Hadiza opened her mouth then promptly closed it. Bull gave her a smile, the same knowing smile he’d given her the night he observed her hands back in Haven.

           “So you want to tell me what’s crawling around inside that pretty head of yours?” He asked and Hadiza’s gaze slid around the room, trying to avoid his. He was Ben-Hasserath; he could read a person like a book if he observed them long enough, but Hadiza might as well have been telling him the story herself with her obvious body language.

           “The night we fled Haven. When I sent the others away to face Corypheus…” Hadiza began, and the images rose to the surface of her mind, vivid, loud, and painful.

           “I was so terrified. He’s a magister, Bull…one of the magisters. The things he said were harrowing. He’s shaken my faith, and it’s why I left out that particular part out in my report. If these people knew…if what Corypheus said was true…if the Maker is not there in the City…if the Throne is empty…Bull what if we’ve gotten it all wrong all this time? What is the point?”

           Bull said nothing, but his gaze was steady, his arms crossed. Hadiza felt the words coming unbidden, confessing her terror to her companion like drawing a thorn from a wound.

           “The nightmares…they don’t follow what happened, not usually. I always end up dead either way. Corypheus has no interest in sycophants, only to seize the power of the Black City for himself. He…sometimes in my nightmares…” Hadiza felt the words turn to bile in her throat and she choked it down. Bull needed to hear no more, and crossed the room to stand before her.

           “You’ve been winning your fights all the way up until you took him on.” Bull explained. “And he wiped the floor with you, and your pride and faith are shaken. For all you know, he could be lying to fuck with your head, but something tells me Corypheus isn’t that kind of sadist. He’s a Vint, but he’s an old Vint. He’s the first true enemy you’ve had…and he beat you down, with a blighted archdemon no less.”

           Hadiza looked down at the floor but Bull tilted her chin up with thick, callused fingers, and she lifted her lashes.

           “You’re wound up from it, and it’s been fucking with you since it happened, manifesting in every aspect of your life as a result. You need to take the edge off. You want control back.” Hadiza couldn’t deny his words. That’s what Corypheus had taken from her: control. She had been stabilizing Thedas nigh effortlessly, had thought she could solve the world’s problems, and then he came and told her that she was less than nothing and that nothing she did would make a difference in the end. The words did not hurt…it was the fact that they accompanied a thrashing by both him and his archdemon.

           “I can help you take the edge off, and I can give you back the control you need to function. But you have to let me in.”

           That gave her pause and she stepped backward, putting an arm’s length of distance between them.

           “What do you mean?” She asked, trying to take the tremor from her voice to no avail. Bull did not pursue and instead tilted his head, horns dipping toward her.

           “You need control, Hadiza,” He used her first name and Hadiza felt her stomach do something unbelievable, “and I can give you that. Everyone needs an outlet. Cassandra’s got practice dummies, Blackwall’s got wood carving, I’ve got my Chargers. What have you got, Hadiza? What or whom do you turn to when you feel your soul is being pulled apart?”

           Hadiza said nothing, looking down at her hands. She had magic, but with no one or nothing to unleash it on save on missions it was not enough. As if she had summoned it, sparks of lightning arced betwixt her slender fingers.

           “What are you suggesting?” She asked, lifting her gaze to stare him in the face. Bull’s expression was unreadable, but his words were perfectly clear.

           “I’ll be your outlet, Hadiza. You hired me to protect you, but sometimes one needs protection off the field as well. You’re going to burn away if you don’t find someone or something to unpack on. So I’m offering my services to you.”

           “Putting it like that, you make yourself sound like a common stree—“ Bull put a finger to her lips and everything changed. His fingertip was rough, her lips were so soft and she took shaking, tremulous breaths, hot and moist against his skin. Whatever Bull saw in her expression made him smile.

           “Not even remotely. What I’m offering you is a chance to unwind safely. Out there, you belong to the Inquisition and your duty. In here…” His fingertip grazed her high cheekbone, traveled along the sleek line of her jaw, and her blood leapt to meet his traveling touch.

           “In here, you’ll belong to me.”

           Hadiza let out a small sound, and she realized belatedly it was a whimper because Bull had taken his hand away. He gave her a gentle smile but even that looked almost predatory.

           “Think about it, Inquisitor. When you’re ready…come to me, and we’ll see if I can’t untangle your soul for you.”

           He left her, then, standing there, sick with a desire she never could imagine existed outside of Varric’s torrid novels.

* * *

           The day Cullen first kissed her, she wondered.

           It was not that she did not love him. No, she was falling for him by degrees. He was hard on his men, but when it came to aught else but battle and strategy, he was charmingly shy, stumbling over his words as Hadiza flirted with him. Their first kiss had been interrupted, but he’d managed to scare the young soldier away, and before Hadiza could tell him she’d leave him be, his mouth was on hers and she felt her blood thrumming hotly in her veins, aching with a need she hadn’t felt since Samuel.

           When he’d bashfully apologized she had fixed him with a sultry gaze and told him that was what she wanted.

           The second time was gentler, saturated and dwelled upon. She tasted him, drank him down, loved the taste of coffee on his mouth, while he licked at the residual sweetness of honey from the little cakes she delighted in eating. His stubble scratched at her soft skin but she didn’t mind. As he pulled away all she could think of was the need and want to shove him to his knees and wrap her legs around his head. Samuel had done it for her a few times, many years ago, and she could never forget the thrill of sensation as his tongue lapped at her in steady, savoring strokes. She wanted Cullen right then and there, to shirk decorum and have her right there on the battlements, to burn away her doubt. She wanted to feel the glorious release as she shuddered around him, and find absolution and resolve in his embrace.

           “I must return to my duties, Inquisitor. I will see you soon.” Hadiza smiled dreamily as he walked away, and while she stood there she felt her breasts ache and a throb between her legs that would not go away. Cullen was taking her heart, but she knew without the need to read body language that he could not untangle her in the way she craved. No, if she moved on him, now, she’d only hurt him with her impatience and fervor. She might even frighten him with her need to be  _taken_.

* * *

           It had been five days since Bull had come to her in her chambers, and Hadiza had been thinking of the way her blood leapt in response to his touch that afternoon. Hadiza mulled over his words, knew them for truth, doubted them, and then reaffirmed them again. By the next evening she found Bull drinking with his men in the Herald’s Rest, where he kept a room. She entered quietly, and the tavern was surprisingly rowdy, but she had not expected anything less when the Chargers got into their cups. Over the din, Hadiza found Bull, laughing uproariously at some ribald joke, and as soon as his head lifted, he met her gaze. The tavern’s noise seemed to grow unusually muffled to her ears. Bull did not gesture to her, did nothing, in fact, except stand up and head toward the stairs. Hadiza followed wordlessly as if bound by some leash. No one took it amiss and as Hadiza ascended the steps, she realized with a thrill what she was about to do.

           Bull’s room was surprisingly small, but she was not surprised. The tavern was not exactly built to accommodate Qunari guests; still…it made his looming presence that more pronounced as she shut the door behind her.

           “So, you’ve thought of what I said.” Bull stated. Hadiza found it odd that he never truly asked her questions, merely stated things as if they were fact. He was right most of the time. Still, it was unnerving to have someone who could pluck one’s thoughts as if they were low-hanging fruit. Hadiza nodded slowly.

           “I kissed Cullen a few days ago and…” She began but Bull held up his hand.

           “Let’s be clear: whatever is between you and the Commander is between you and the Commander. I’m not making designs on your heart.” He paused briefly, appraising her with an appreciative glance.

           “And it seems the Commander’s already taken care of that. But you’re going to end up hurting him and scaring him all tangled up on the inside like you are. He’s got his own shadows. What I plan to make of you is the light that chases them away.”

           Hadiza’s brows knit together and she drew in a breath. Whatever else she had been expecting it had not been that. Bull held out his hand, and Hadiza felt herself go to him, her legs feeling like water, her heart hammering a fever cadence in her chest. Hadiza placed her hand in his and he tugged her forward so that she crashed against him, a wave breaking on a steady and obstinate shore.

           “Before we begin, I need you to do something for me…” Bull murmured, his hand sliding up her silk-clad back, big and warm and hardened by battle. Hadiza trembled like a leaf.

           “Yes…?” She heard herself breathe.

           “I need you to think of a word. One word. It must be a word you associate with safety…something you aren’t liable to scream out in bed.”

           Hadiza’s head swam. What?

           He released her and she felt strangely bereft without him holding her, and she realized he’d somehow lifted her off her feet for he set her back down.

           “When you have your word, tell it to me.” He encouraged her and Hadiza shut her eyes. A word, a word that summoned safety, one she would not  _scream in bed_. She sifted through her memories, recalling every moment she felt safe, protected…before the Breach, before Corypheus, even before the Circle. She recalled the dusty practice field on the Trevelyan grounds. She recalled sparring with her sister, her mother’s indulgent smile, her father’s beaming pride. She sifted deep, recalling all of her battles, and unbidden, it came to her, the moment, the word, and the accompanying image.

           “Dragon.” She murmured. Bull’s brows rose in surprise.

           “Now that  _is_  interesting. Why that word?” Hadiza bit her lip, smiling to herself.

           “When we fought the Ferelden Frostback…right before it breathed fire at us, you let out the most exalted cry and…you and Cassandra charged ahead. I’d never felt more secure and safe than when you two had my back facing down a dragon.” She murmured. Bull laughed, grinning and cupped her face in his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. His expression then turned serious.

           “You’re full of surprises, I will give you that. But now…that word. Hold onto it. Keep it near your heart and mind, within easy reach. If ever it becomes too much to bear, if ever it becomes more than you feel are capable of handling, say the word and everything will cease. No judgment, no resentment, no strings.”

           Hadiza nodded wordlessly. Bull smiled again, pulling her to her feet.

           “Remember, in here you’re mine…and whatever I tell you, you will do without question. I’ll not push you farther than you can go, and remember your word.”

           “Dragon…” Hadiza whispered breathlessly. Bull nodded, smiling.

           “Dragon.” He echoed. “Now take off your clothes.”

* * *

           The first night had been a learning experience. When Hadiza stripped before the Iron Bull, she felt her skin hot and flushed with shame, had hidden the heavy swells of her breasts behind her arms until Bull told her to keep her arms up, fingers laced behind her head. He’d straightened her posture, remarked on how soft and beautiful she was, luxurious skin like burnished mahogany, rich and dark and glowing. He’d trailed his fingers over every inch of her until she was ready to burst from within to without. He was teaching her control of herself above all things.

           “You’ve a temper like dragon matriarch.” He’d told her as his thumbs circled both her nipples, eliciting panting from her parted lips. She thrust her chest up and forward, wanting him to cup her aching breasts in his hands. He had not obliged her, and it wasn’t until he denied her pleasure that she understood, and so she stood still while he spoke, petting her until the apex between her thighs was moist, her inner thighs shining with arousal.

           “You call down storms on the heads of those who only deserve a bit of fire…” He went on, pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers. Her legs trembled, and she bit her lip on a whimper.

           “You burn through your magic until there’s nothing but ashes. You are brutal and efficient, but you lack control of yourself. If you can’t control yourself, how do you ever expect to control the Inquisition?” His fingertips had strayed lower and Hadiza quivered in abject anticipation. Instead of where she wanted him to go, he gripped her hips instead. He’d instructed her to plant her feet shoulder-width apart. She had, and she was aching…dripping…and she was angry and frustrated.

           “Put a leash on it, Hadiza.” Bull said firmly, fingers hovering one twitch away from where she so badly wanted them.

           Taking in a deep breath, Hadiza had filled her lungs with her own anger and breathed out a smaller, more harmless version of winter’s grasp. Bull laughed.

           “Cullen has no idea what he’s getting himself into with you, does he?” Without preamble his fingers parted her and Hadiza gasped, her spell broken as all of her focus drained from her mind to her belly, hot and coiling like a serpent’s tail. Her clit was slick with her arousal and it slid between his index and middle finger effortlessly, and as it passed her applied just enough pressure to make her moan involuntarily.

           “Good girl.” Bull murmured.

           There were other things he’d done, teaching her the value of patience and control. The way he’d made her lay for instance. She was on her back, her hands bound above her head against the headboard, her legs in the air, and he’d ordered her to part them, keeping her legs straight. Hadiza had never felt so exposed and she saw Bull’s eye roving her, settling between her spread-eagle legs.

           “Bull…please…” She whispered, her muscles tightening as she flexed. Bull swore he saw her sex pulsing greedily, longing to be filled. Hadiza had the potential to fuck like a damn demon, but he could tell from her apprehension in the beginning that she’d never been given an opportunity to explore. Cullen could have her when he’d stripped away her fear of her own potential, and the light she’d bring would burn away his doubts.

           For now, though, she belonged to him.

           Hadiza couldn’t focus, and how not with Bull’s thick finger stroking in and out of her while he spoke to her in an unnervingly calm voice.

           “We’re going to do a little exercise of control, Hadiza,” Bull was instructing her, “I’m going to bring you near to coming, and you’re going to fight it.”

           Hadiza’s eyes went wide. Bull was not smiling; he was very serious.

           “Ready?” Was all the warning she got before he changed his methods. Hadiza squirmed, bending her legs and lifting her hips, abs and thighs flexing as she strained. His fingers were pumping in and out of her, palm slamming against her exposed clit with each stroke. Hadiza wailed, feeling her control slipping as the heat in her belly began to uncoil violently.

           “Fight it, Hadiza. Master yourself!” Bull growled and Hadiza tried to find a thought, a thread,  **anything** to keep her body from unfurling in a powerful orgasm.

           She failed, letting out a high shriek as her hips pumped involuntarily into Bull’s hand, her sex flexing around his stroking fingers, greedy and slick. When her trembling had subsided into little tremors of aftershock, Bull withdrew his fingers. Without shame he sucked his fingers clean, chuckling.

           “You’ll get it right eventually, Hadiza. For now, just relax.” Hadiza stared up at the ceiling, unsure if she were actually in her body or not. She had become briefly untethered from herself, and now she basked in soft aftermath, receding back into herself, reality stitching her back together and a wave of exhaustion overtook her. Bull leaned over to untie her hands and she sank into the bed, her legs no longer trembling but still weak.

           “Want me to carry you back to your room?” Bull asked her. Hadiza shook her head, curling onto her side and feeling warm, safe, and a great deal less wound up. It was the first night she did not dream of Corypheus killing her. It was the first night she did not dream at all.


End file.
